The Bovine Jury
by StorytellerRP
Summary: In the Edgar Allen Poe style, a diabolical crime is uncovered by a most unlikely group.


This is a story that I wrote a couple of years ago in Poe style. I would like to have some honest feedback about the story…whether positive or negative.

They were only cows…creatures that minded not any other thing than their own dull affairs. They spent every day in placid solitude. Who could have presumed that they would be the vehicle of my very demise?

The field, on which the bovines of which I write grazed, belonged to a long time acquaintance of mine. Farming was his chosen occupation. The field and the bovines were what I saw each time I looked out my door.

I had once started work on the porch of the house in which I resided. Being quite run down, it was sorely in need of repair. Being the decent fellow that my landlord was, he rendered his assistance to my employment. Through the heart of the spring we endeavored to make the best of our work on the porch. Then, during the first days of summer, the repairs to the porch were completed.

It was during the first months of the summer that my neighbor questioned me about rent. It was on his land that I resided, and it was to him that I needed to make payment for my stay. But, alas, I could not. The times it seems were not kind to me.

My landlord neighbor continued his visitations through the summer months. I also persisted in telling him that I would get the rent payments to him soon. Finally, as summer was drawing to a close, he became tired of asking me for my payments.

"Give me your rent money or I will throw you out into the street," he had said. I said that I would try and he left. I pondered for a long moment whether I could possibly make my friend accept some other item that I possessed. It seemed unlikely that I could.

It was during the first of the autumn months that he came to me with an employment offer.

"I would like to begin smelting lime," he told me. "I first need to have a lime kiln constructed for me."

My landlord friend knew of my experience in making kilns, so he asked that I be the one that did the work for him.

"If you do this for me, I will forget your previous debts," he said. It labored me not to ask of current and future debts.

"I am going to be travelling for a while," told my landlord. "The end of my life is getting ever closer, and I would like to see some of the world before I die."

I asked him where he wanted the kiln to be built.

"I would like it in the field in which my cattle now graze," my landlord said. "My workers will tend to the cows in my absence."

Thus my landlord left, leaving me to my task. After the gate had been closed barring the cows from entering the field, I set to work procuring rocks from a nearby quarry. It took the better part of a month to get the necessary amount of stones, as well as to mix the mortar.

It took most of the months of autumn to build the kiln. As the autumn turned into winter the fruit of my labor was fulfilled. My work was completed. I returned to my abode basking in my accomplishment.

The winter wore on, and each day I would gaze at the kiln that I had constructed with my bare hands. It was the best one that I had ever made, that I could recall.

As the winter turned into spring, the cows were put back into pasture, and the farming got back to normal.

It was during the end of spring that I witnessed a spectacle that I thought very strange. The cows began licking at the stones that made up the kiln that I had constructed. I knew nothing about cows so I asked the farm workers why they would do such a thing.

"They do it for the salt content in the rocks," one of the workers said.

"I see," I had replied.

Through the summer months the cows kept their relentless licking on the rocks. It was during the first of the autumn months that I witnessed something that I found quite unnerving. I noticed that the rocks that made up the kiln were becoming dislodged. The fruit of my labor was being destroyed. My wonder at once turned to anger.

"Stop it," I had yelled at the cursed beasts. Yet, with every passing day, the number of dislodged stones was increased.

It was later that I noticed that the farm workers were looking closely at the disintegrating kiln. I suspected that they were surprised by the amount of rocks that were being dislodged.

It was a short time later that a knock came upon my door. It was a policeman from a nearby town.

"Is it true that you built the kiln yourself?" the policeman asked.

"Yes, I did," I had replied proudly.

The policeman took out a set of handcuffs. "I'm afraid you will have to come with me."

It is now in the month of January, the start of a new year. I am setting in my prison cell contemplating on the events of the past several months. It seems that the farm workers had discovered a human arm buried in the kiln. After working to completely uncover the body, it was discovered that it was the body of my landlord.

Learning this came as a shock to me, but it did not come as a surprise for I had put him there!

They were only cows…


End file.
